Adelaide

Chapter XV

Emerald Byron

The evening passes quickly as I anticipate the continuation of our mystery. I still haven't figured out how to address our familial rivalry, but Adelaide's offer was too intriguing to ignore. In preparation for the late night, I dress in darker tones, layering a black tweed overcoat atop a forest-green cashmere sweater. I assume we'll scout the gardens, where Hortus stores his supplies.

Right on time, Adelaide slips into the commons from the underpass. Though the night remains relatively young, I feel as if we're the only ones awake in the entire citadel. Her striking eyes roam the empty room, before settling on me. I nod in acknowledgement.

"From what I've gathered, he spends his nighttime hours tending to the plants, so I assume he'll be in the greenhouses," she begins, "I myself haven't found the time to visit them before — could you lead the way?"

"They lie on the easternmost side of the campus, aligned to catch the sunrise each morning. I'll show you."

With a neutral smile, I fall into step beside her and we subconsciously head outside to the grounds. I consider offering her my arm, but ultimately decide otherwise, leading the pair of us forward. As we approach the gardens from the north, obscured by heavy clouds and a howling breeze that soaks seamlessly through my jacket, I glance up to study the dim candlelight glowing through translucent greenhouse walls.

"You're right. I'm sure he's inside."

"Let's get a closer look then, shall we?" Adelaide replies with an easy grin despite the freezing cold, grasping my hand to lead us nearer to the windows in search of a better vantage point.

Through the foggy walls, I discern a man hovering over a book at his desk, scribbling furiously on a sheet of parchment. Every so often, he glances down at something clutched in his other hand. To the left, a second desk stands cluttered with trinkets. Among the gardening tools, something gleaming like silver catches both of our attention at the same time.

"Oh."

Adelaide's tone dries with shock, so I startle to see satisfaction splayed blindly across her face when I look her way. Her hand clenches in mine as if she's locked in a memory. Then, she seems to remember our intertwined fingers and slacks her grip, too late for me not to feel her nails digging into my skin.

"I remember that knife, Ral — the silver one on the table. It was with Ludo when I found him."

"You're sure that's it?" I whisper, watching the gardener continue to scrawl his message across the page.

What does he write so hurriedly? Just before I can comment on how consumed Hortus appears, the gruff man shifts in his seat and moves to glance suspiciously over his shoulder. Curses slip out from under my breath, and I quickly grasp Adelaide's wrist to pull her away from the window. Fortunately, he doesn't stand from his chair.

"Sorry," I mutter, though I know I hardly sound apologetic; I already led two of my friends into trouble this week, and I won't permit a third.

"It's fine. I'm positive."

Adelaide's response is quiet and strained by her efforts to peer through the dim lighting. Before I can object, she releases my hand entirely and darts closer to the foggy window, attempting to better read the gardener's writing. Though the candlelight reflects too lucently on the glass to see well, she settles on watching his movements. Then, abruptly, the silhouette shifts again in his chair. Adelaide curses — Hortus must've glimpsed her — and scrambles away from the illuminated greenhouse. She retreats back to me and he arises from his seat, urgently shoving things into his coat pockets. We need to disappear before he ventures outside to bloody his knife a second time.

"Saints, Adelaide," I hiss crossly, hooking my hand around the crook of her elbow and tugging her into the darkness.

I wondered what the gardener wrote, too, but responsibility restrains my curiosity much tighter than hers. We already gathered enough evidence via the knife to incriminate him. Only slowing my pace once we stand safely within the door to the citadel, I suddenly spin to face Adelaide.

"You had no reason to go back a second time."

My voice is low — a mixture of defensiveness and disapproval — but I can't convince myself that I hate her guts when the heart pounding in my chest declares otherwise.

"At least now we know for sure."

She stares at me incredulously, angry with me for being upset with her. However, her voice softens and she restrains her temper when she adds an apology to the end.

"I'm sorry, okay?"

I stiffly shake my head and turn away, realizing only too late how cosseted I must appear. I try to care for my friends, but I can't always match Sapphire's reposing compassion.

"Well, we're in the clear now — as long as he doesn't report us, and I don't think he will," I sigh, staring down the dank corridor, "Rue is going to be troubled; they were pretty close."

"I wonder if someone made him do it," Adelaide mumbles, before blatantly rerouting, "Anyway, are you going to head back to bed now?"

Words caught in my throat prompt me to hesitate, but ultimately I nod again and answer, "I am."

I don't look back to her again as I turn and start towards the southern tower. The walk is cold, and the echo of my footfalls mock me for my retreat. When I slip through the door of my room for the night, Topaz glances up right away, studying my conflicted expression all-too-knowingly.

"Sometimes it's better to follow your head, anyway."

"You would say that," I harshly retort, "You and Saph act like star-crossed lovers, while in reality the only thing ruining the relationship is your own damn overthinking."

Rather than matching my indignation, he merely shrugs. He already understands the implications of my words too well to be pained by the jab.

"Don't act cross with me, just because you're mad at yourself."

I scoff, stepping over to my chest of drawers for a change of clothes.

Only after I've snuffed the candles and slipped under my covers am I able to quietly answer, "The sooner we leave this place, the better."